Just Another Ordinary Day
by sussiekitten
Summary: AU - What to do when you have an insanely protective big brother and all you want to do is to step outside? Here's Eragon's answer and the consequences of his actions. Mild M/E slash, Incest hints
1. The Grocery Incident

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Eragon or anything associated with the Inheritance Cycle.

**Claimer: **I, SussieKitten, own this plot and the story. Borrow or steal my plot, my (when used) original characters or story and I will report you. I also own my version of Saphira/Thorn's human appearances.

**Warnings:** Slash/Shōnen-ai – meaning mild guy x guy action. Mild hints at incest - as in, they are brothers in this story. Swearing or strong language. Fluff - seriously, beware the fluff! Attempt at humour - read: attempt. If any of this disturbs you, click on the "back" button. I won't tolerate any flames.

**A/N** A huge thanks to **rAbIdmutt03** for beta'ing this for me and for giving me the idea. There are probably still a few tiny mistakes here and there, but hopefully they aren't too serious or too horrifying.

If anyone says that I can't still be fluffy, I shall laugh and shove this fic in their face. Because, really, this is by far the "fluffiest" fic I've ever written. I wrote this last year, in the middle of Black Mist, I believe. As in, this was before I was fully consumed by my need to write dark and angsty stuff. The reason it took so long to be posted is because I've been going back and forth between adding more to the story and wanting to finish posting my other stuff before squeezing this in. But now the time finally came.

Enjoy people. And seriously, beware the fluff and attempt at humour. You have been warned.

* * *

_**Just Another Ordinary Day**_

**_Chapter One_**

**_The Grocery Incident_**

Eragon and Murtagh had only known each other for a few years. Their parents had divorced when Murtagh had been five, Eragon having just turned two, and they had been separated. Eragon had grown up with his mother Selena Rider. Eragon had inherited her light brown hair but had his father's dark brown eyes.

Murtagh had come to live with them when Morzan Teytor, their father, had been killed in a bar fight. Murtagh had gotten their father's black hair and Selena's hazel eyes. He had moved in just months before his sixteenth birthday, and had proceeded to spend a lot of time alone in his room. It had taken the arrival of Murtagh's two best friends, Thorn and Nasuada, and much prying from Eragon and Selena before he started to socialise. And once Eragon and he bonded Murtagh had never let go.

As time passed, their bond only became stronger. Even though Murtagh had started college he had continued to live at home. The only thing that changed with the years was that Murtagh had become protective of Eragon. Eragon's friends would say that it was for a good reason, but the brunet would say otherwise.

Eragon would agree to the claims that he was clumsy. He had after all managed to trip on a sock, of all things, ripped down the curtains, tripped over the sofa and had fallen head first into the aquarium. Murtagh had promptly laughed for twenty minutes before starting to scold Eragon for being so careless and almost started to fuss over him. Eragon couldn't remember having blushed so hard in his entire life.

The protectiveness had only gotten worse when Eragon had hit sixteen. Saphira and Arya had taken him to a club to celebrate when, apparently, Eragon had been hit on no less than fifteen times in the first hour.

When Murtagh had heard about that incident, he had promptly announced that Eragon wasn't allowed inside any club without him being present. Arya and Nasuada had giggled and laughed while Saphira had tried to comfort an angered Eragon. Murtagh could be really unfair sometimes.

But soon it was Eragon's turn to begin at the local college. Murtagh, who now was three years into his Masters degree, had asked if they should find an apartment and move closer to the campus. Two months before the semester started they had found one. It had two bedrooms, a bathroom and a living room with a small kitchenette. They had moved in a few days later. Now, two years later, Murtagh was finishing his Master and Eragon was soon turning nineteen. They had managed to live together without complications. Or at least, without too many complications.

-:-

Eragon guessed there was really only one downside by rooming with your older brother. Well, there was only one if you were Murtagh's brother.

Eragon had gotten used to Murtagh's over-protectiveness a long time ago. But that didn't mean he liked it. Thanks to Murtagh, Eragon was hardly allowed to go near any sharp object, even when he ate! And Eragon found that highly unfair. He had never cut himself on mistake once in his entire life! But the downside, the real downside, was that there were certain things Murtagh wouldn't allow him to do.

They had agreed on a list of chores before moving out. Murtagh would do the grocery shopping and laundry while Eragon would take care of the trash and cleaning. But apparently that chore list was unchangeable. Eragon wasn't allowed to do the laundry, which was fine by him. He had somehow managed to shrink his socks once even if he couldn't remember how. No, what he objected to was that he wasn't allowed to buy groceries. It never failed either. Murtagh always made sure that there were no groceries missing, and if he was too busy or knew he was going to be he would do the shopping in advance. And it annoyed Eragon. There was no reason he shouldn't be allowed to do a simple _chore_!

Of course, then the inevitable happened. Murtagh forgot to do the shopping.

"...You forgot?" Eragon didn't know if he was angry or about to laugh himself to death. Murtagh never forgot to do things! Hell, it seemed almost impossible for him to be late, even if he left late to get where he was going. But now the ever so perfect Murtagh had forgotten to go grocery shopping.

"No need to rub it in," a tired and haggard looking Murtagh nearly snapped. "I've been cramped with work and you know it."

Eragon couldn't keep himself from wincing. Murtagh's final exam was in only a week and he had been studying like mad. There were dark circles forming under his eyes and Murtagh had started to walk around the apartment in worn and faded clothes, clothes he would never wear in public.

"I know," Eragon mumbled quietly.

Murtagh sighed and raked two hands through his already messy hair. He mumbled something under his breath and walked into his room. Eragon stared forlornly after him. But the dark haired male came out ten seconds later, pulling on his trusted leather jacket as he did so. Murtagh hadn't changed his clothes, still dressed in torn and mattered jeans that seemed to be suspiciously trendy lately and a faded t-shirt.

Eragon stood up from the couch, where he had been trying and failing to write an essay for next week and strode quickly after his brother. "Where are you going?" he asked.

"Well, it seems like I have some shopping to do," Murtagh nearly growled as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"No way. You have tons of stuff to read! I'll go," Eragon said and stepped forward.

"It's just a quick stop. I won't lose that much of my studying time. I'm in need of a break anyway."

"That's a different tune than what I've heard from you these past few weeks," Eragon said with a frown. "I can go, it's no big deal. I can't concentrate on my essay anyway."

Murtagh turned around, abandoning the search for his shoes for the moment. He presented Eragon with a hard stare. "You aren't going. Doing the groceries is my chore, I'll go," Murtagh said, clearly becoming more annoyed by the second.

And he wasn't the only one. Eragon glared back at his older brother, not knowing what to believe anymore. He had never understood why he wasn't allowed to go. The store was a ten minute walk from their apartment! It was like...

"You don't trust me, do you?" the brunet scowled.

Murtagh sighed again. "Of course I trust you," he mumbled. "But we do different things around the apartment. Buying food is my chore. _I'm_ doing it."

"Like **hell** you trust me!" Eragon almost shouted. "You won't bloody let me going _grocery shopping_, for fucks sake!!"

"Don't curse, Eragon," Murtagh said warningly.

"Whatever, Murtagh!" the brown eyed teen seethed. "I'm sick and tired of this! Why won't you let me do a simple chore?!"

"Because -" Murtagh cut himself off, hazel eyes narrowing as he wrinkled his nose.

Oh yeah, Murtagh was getting angry now, Eragon could see as much. And it pleased him. His brother wasn't as perfect as everyone believed him to be, Eragon knew that better than anyone.

"Yes?" Eragon hissed.

"...You have no sense of direction. You'll get lost on the way back," the dark haired brother said and looked away.

Eragon stumbled back a step. So that was why he wasn't allowed to go anywhere alone. His brother had no faith in him. And that hurt.

"...The fuck?! That's the lousiest excuse ever!" Eragon said with a dark glare. "It's just around the damn corner!! Its grocery shopping, not rocket science!"

"Eragon. I -" Murtagh said angrily.

"No! I won't listen to more of your lousy excuses. I'm going!"

"_FINE_!" Murtagh bellowed.

Eragon snorted. He stomped pass his brother and angrily stepped into his shoes, not bothering to untie them.

"Don't forget the wallet and your phone. And remember to keep it on this time," the older brother said warningly.

Eragon looked up and glared at his brother. He angrily grabbed the wallet from his brother's hands. "Yes mother," he said icily and waved his phone in Murtagh's face.

Murtagh opened his mouth to speak, but Eragon simply turned around and slammed the door behind him.

The brunet stomped down the stairs and out of the apartment building and continued out onto the sidewalk. Eragon walked with his hands deep into his jeans pockets and a scowl on his face. He hadn't felt so angry in a long time, and he hated feeling this way! He hated to be angry, especially at his brother. And funnily enough, it seemed like he was getting angry around his brother a lot lately.

If the brunet were to be honest, there was another reason he was so angry. It wasn't just that he felt like Murtagh was babying him. No, it was that he felt like his brother didn't trust him. And that hurt. It hurt a lot. Especially since Eragon had realised his feelings towards Murtagh a long time ago. He didn't know when, how was rather obvious considering who his brother was, but somehow he had fallen for Murtagh. Saphira and Arya had helped him get over the worst shock and helped him realise that he had no reason to be disgusted with himself. You couldn't help who you loved. It just happened. But what Eragon still refused to do was to tell Murtagh. He'd rather not wake up and find himself being gutted alive by Murtagh, thank you very much. Because he had seen his brother angry and it was not a pretty sight.

So, as the brunet kicked a small rock across the sidewalk in front of him, he had to admit he was angry because Murtagh seemed not to believe in him. And to have the one you loved not believe in you really sucked.

Eragon nearly tripped as he stepped onto the bottom of his jeans. He cursed and just barely managed to not bump into a guy that was walking around the corner. He made it to the supermarket in one piece and walked inside.

Eragon breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that there weren't many customers present. He wasn't used to being around a lot of people at once, and it made him a little edgy. He picked up a shopping basket and walked down the first isle. He leafed through the wallet, cursing in relief when he found the shopping list stuffed between two bills.

"Alright, this doesn't look too hard," Eragon mumbled to himself and got to work.

Even though he hadn't been there many times, Eragon was proud that he managed to not get lost during the first ten minutes he was there. He had even managed to find the bread they ate without trouble!

He was in the process of figuring where the store could have hidden the fruits and vegetables when he heard his name being called. "Eragon!"

He turned around. He waved when he saw two very familiar figures coming towards him. One was a blonde with blue stripes in her hair. Her sapphire blue eyes twinkled beneath her forelock. It was his best friend Saphira. Behind her, carrying the basket was a tall red haired male. He was muscular, but not unattractively so. He had light brown, almost golden eyes. He nodded to Eragon as they came closer. It was Thorn, Saphira's boyfriend and Murtagh's best friend.

"Hey, what are you doing here?" Saphira asked with a smile.

"Grocery shopping. What did you think?" Eragon asked.

Thorn suddenly looked very amused. "Alone? And Murtagh let you?" he asked with a small chuckle.

"Err, yeah. Is that so hard to believe?" Eragon asked suspiciously.

"Yes, it is," Saphira and Thorn said in one voice.

"Why?"

"I'm sure you'll learn that soon enough," Saphira said and patted Eragon's head. "But we have to get going. Lots of shopping to do!"

Thorn groaned in despair. "I hate shopping," he mumbled under his breath as Saphira eagerly dragged him along.

Eragon just stared after them blankly. He shook his head and looked back down at the list. He really had some strange friends.

-:-

Murtagh wasn't happy. Not that that wasn't a new occurrence. Most of the time he was either bored or didn't care what he was feeling. But now he was very unhappy. He hated arguing with Eragon. He hated it more than he hated their deceased father, and that wasn't an easy feat to accomplish.

Murtagh sighed into his hands. He couldn't help it. He just naturally was protective of Eragon. That of course had a reason, but he wasn't going to utter that out loud even if it were to save his own life. Ever since he had met his younger brother, protectiveness had quickly risen in him. He felt particularly protective of Eragon around other people, especially guys. Ever since Eragon had shyly told him he was gay, Murtagh had made sure to keep creepy guys away from him. And it was no easy feat. Wherever Eragon went, it seemed like creeps naturally could sense him. But thankfully they stayed back after getting a well-practiced death glare sent their way.

The hazel eyed man clenched his hands when he remembered where the brunet was at that exact moment. Alone...in a large convenient store...with no one to protect him. Eragon was by no means weak, but he could be far too trusting. And naïve, Murtagh couldn't forget that little fact. The brunet was incapable of recognizing a come-on even if it came and bit him in the ass. Murtagh shook his head in silent disbelief.

"That kid is going to be the death of me," Murtagh mumbled as he stood up.

Thirty minutes had passed already. Murtagh expected his little brother home soon. It was a little strange. Murtagh had had many homes throughout his childhood. He had lived with Morzan and Selena, then with just his father, then with Selena and Eragon...and lastly with Eragon. But there were certain times he had felt more at home, and those times usually involved Eragon. Murtagh smirked to himself. He had no trouble calling a house with Eragon in it home.

The hazel eyed man closed the book he had been unsuccessfully trying to read. Without Eragon around him, it was easy for him to lose the ability to concentrate. Especially when he didn't know where Eragon was and what he was doing. Murtagh glanced at the clock and felt his eyes widen in shock.

"...the fuck?!"

Murtagh pulled out his cell-phone and pressed the speed-dial for Eragon's phone. A metallic voice immediately picked up. "_The person you're trying to reach is either out of reach or has their phone off. Please try again later._"

"What the fuck?" Murtagh growled. Eragon had turned his phone off, even when he had told him specifically not to?! Eragon was in deep shit now.

Murtagh threw on his jacket again and nearly tore down the key-rack when he pulled out his keys. He got out of the apartment, closed it, and half-ran down the stairs. The clock in the living room showed that it had been fifty minutes since Eragon had left. Murtagh wasn't waiting anymore. Eragon could have fallen on his way back or tripped inside the store and have been sent to the hospital. He could have gotten lost and gone home with some stranger, like the trusting idiot he was. Murtagh's scowl deepened. He could practically feel the grey hairs pop up from all the worrying he was doing. Eragon was going to **pay** when he found him.

-:-

Eragon cried out in triumph when he found the proper aisle. He had managed to get lost for a minute until he had remembered the signs that hung from the ceiling. From there it had been easy to find his way to the front of the store again.

"Hey, you look a little lost."

Eragon turned around. He raised an eyebrow. The man before him just widened his grin. "Do you need any help?" he asked.

"Eh, no thanks. I think I've got this covered," Eragon said suspiciously. Oh, something felt seriously off about that guy. Eragon shook his head and ducked around a shelf, hoping that he could get away if he ran fast enough.

Since he was so busy looking over his shoulder, he didn't notice the figure before him and bumped into them. Eragon nearly fell forward, but managed to catch himself just in time. That had been his second almost-fall of the day.

"You alright?" the guy he had almost run into asked.

Eragon just nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine. Sorry for running into you."

"Oh, that's alright," the red haired man said and almost smirked. "You can make it up to me, however. What about a coffee after this?"

_Oh, God, why me?_ Eragon muttered to himself. He could have sworn that grocery shopping hadn't involved so many perverts the last time he had gone. Granted, Murtagh had been with him then, but so what? It wasn't like he had a sign stuck to his forehead that said '_fuck me, I'm gay and single_'.

"No thanks. Sorry again, but I got to go," Eragon said and started to back away from the creepy man before him.

"Why? Do you have someone waiting for you at home?" the man asked and leered.

"Actually, I do," he didn't need to know that Eragon was referring to his brother. "And he'll be pretty pissed if I don't come home soon."

Before the other could reply, Eragon had ducked behind another shelf and had started to half-run towards the register. He wanted to get outside as fast as possible. This was the last time he went grocery shopping!

The rest of the shopping went without problems. Eragon only almost tripped over a dog food display, but had managed to side-step it just in time. He paid for the food and walked out of the store. Or rather, he half-ran. He wasn't about to take any chances.

When he finally approached the apartment complex, Eragon was proud to say that he hadn't got lost once. He smiled smugly and walked inside. He even managed to get out his keys and unlock the door without dropping anything. While he found the fact that the door was closed strange, he just chalked it up as another of Murtagh's temper tantrums. The brunet walked into the kitchen and started to put away the food. When he was done, he brushed off his hands and nodded smugly. Ha! And Murtagh that had believed he would screw up.

Speaking of which...

"Murtagh?" Eragon called out. He rolled his eyes when he got no answer. "Are you still mad? I promise that I got everything on that stupid list. You're welcome to check if you want to."

Still no answer. Eragon frowned. That wasn't like his brother at all.

The brunet walked over to Murtagh's room and knocked softly. There wasn't a sound to be heard from inside of it. Usually he could hear loud rock/metal music coming from inside of it, but now it was dead silent. Eragon pushed the door open.

"Wha?" he muttered to himself. The room was empty. Murtagh was gone.

"I can't believe this," Eragon said quietly. "He was actually mad enough that he walked out on me?"

The brown eyed teen glared into the empty room accusingly. He slammed the door shut and walked back into the living room, throwing his keys onto the table as he did so. Murtagh would scold him for not hanging them up later, but Eragon didn't care.

He flumped down onto the couch and crossed his arms. He continued to scowl at the wall as he cursed his brother. Murtagh was so un-fucking-believable sometimes.

Eragon sat there sulking until he felt the anger leave him. He couldn't stay angry for too long. He sighed and bit his lip. He hated it when Murtagh was mad at him. And by the way the things had played out earlier, Eragon knew he might just was well prepare himself to get yelled at. The brunet stuffed his hands into his pockets and slouched. As he did so, his hands brushed up against something. His cell-phone.

"That's where it went!" Eragon exclaimed. He hadn't really been looking for it, but in his pockets a lot of things just seemed to be missing until he magically found them again.

Eragon shook his head and flipped the phone open. His eyes widened when the screen remained blank. He tried to press the 'on' button, but it stayed black.

"Uh-oh," he whispered. He was doomed! His phone had died when he had been out. Murtagh was going to _kill_ him!

Eragon hastily scrambled up and put his phone into the charger. A minute later it finally allowed him to turn it on. Eragon cursed loudly when he found three missed calls, all of them from his brother. Murtagh was going to kill him **dead**!

As if to confirm his belief, the phone suddenly started to ring. And at that moment, Eragon began to hate his ringer. But he was more scared than angry at the device. The screen merrily told him that it was Murtagh that was calling...again. Eragon gulped. If he didn't answer, Murtagh was going to choke him on his own intestines when he got back. Sometimes Eragon had to wonder if his brother actually was a woman. He certainly had the temper and acted like he constantly had PMS.

Shaking himself out of his thoughts, Eragon raised the device slowly to his ear and pressed the green button. "Hello?" he said meekly.

"_Where are you?_" Murtagh asked in a calm and quiet tone.

Oh fuck, oh fuck. Murtagh was seriously pissed off! He never sounded calm unless he was pissed off.

"I'm home. But, Murtagh -" Eragon started to say, but found himself effectively cut off.

"_Stay there,_" and then the line went dead.

Eragon gulped. Oh yeah, he was _so_ dead! He wondered if Murtagh would allow him to say goodbye to his friends, but doubted it. Murtagh was on a warpath, that much was obvious. There was nothing he could do but to wait for Murtagh to come back. Hiding would be futile. Murtagh always knew where to find him.

-:-

"Murtagh?"

The hazel eyed man turned around and directed the glare at whoever had dared to interrupt his plans to torture his little brother. But Thorn didn't look intimidated. Sometimes Murtagh really hated that Thorn had grown up with him. His death glares had no effect on him.

"What?" Murtagh hissed. He needed to get home before Eragon did something stupid like trying to run. Eragon had tried that once before, and damn that brat if he tried it again.

"Let me guess...this has something to do with Eragon?" Thorn said and had the gall to look amused.

Murtagh would have presented him with a few well-chosen words, but just then Saphira popped up behind him and put a bucket-load of bags into his arms. Thorn almost buckled under the load. Murtagh found himself blinking in shock. There was such a thing that was heavy for Thorn? He never thought he would live to see the day.

"Oh, hello Murtagh!" Saphira said cheerfully. "We just ran into Eragon. I'm surprised you let him out of his leash to go shopping alone," she finished with a smirk.

"That damn brat knows how to talk his way out of things. Or into things," Murtagh said sourly. "When exactly did you see him?"

"No, don't tell me he actually did something without asking you?" Saphira asked amusedly.

"No. Like I said, he talked his way into doing this. I was...too busy last week."

Thorn snorted. "Understatement of the century. I'm studying for that exam too, Tag, but you don't see me walking around like a zombie."

"No, you're just a regular pack-animal," Murtagh drawled.

"Bite me," Thorn growled.

"Boys," Saphira said firmly. "Back down," she softened her glare when they did so. Murtagh had to give it to her. She could be damn scary when she wanted to.

"- around fifteen minutes ago."

Murtagh shook his head. "Sorry, what?"

Saphira rolled her eyes. "I said that we saw Eragon around fifteen minutes ago. He was hightailing out of the store. And really, you can't blame him."

"Yeah. You'd think the guys would take a hint, but no," Thorn snorted. Saphira hit him the second he had finished speaking. Thorn blinked before he seemed to come to a realisation. "Oh fuck."

"What?" Murtagh hissed angrily. Oh, he _better_ have heard wrong.

"Nothing," Thorn said nonchalantly.

"People were hitting on Eragon?" Murtagh growled angrily. Screw yelling Eragon blue, he was out for blood now.

"Murtagh, it's no big deal. It happens all the time," Saphira said and smiled sheepishly. "Eragon's just cute like that. And some guys can sense his...sexuality...and they take advantage of that fact."

"WHAT?!" Murtagh bellowed. Oh, _no one_ was going to take advantage of his little brother.

"Dude, calm down," Thorn said sternly. "You're making a scene."

"So what?" the hazel eyed man growled. "I'm going to kill those guys."

"Sadly, you can't. Eragon would kill you for putting yourself in jail or killing a few random guys," the blue eyed girl said and shook her head. "He should have gotten home by now."

"I know. I just talked to him," the dark haired man said darkly and clenched the phone tighter in his hand.

"Then go home. And don't kill him, Murtagh. It's not his fault he's so adorable," Saphira said and then turned to her boyfriend. "Come now, Thorn. We need to get home too."

"Can't you help me at least? My back is killing me," Thorn practically whined as the smaller blonde continued to drag him away.

"What was that? Has chivalry died and I need to find myself a new boyfriend?" Saphira commented airily.

Murtagh winced. He felt for his friend, he really did. But at that moment he had more pressing matters to take care of. Eragon was **so** dead.

-:-

Eragon paced back and forth across the room. Dead, he was dead! He hadn't even gotten to write his will! There were so many things he hadn't done yet. And to die by his brother's hand of all things! It sounded like something out of a messed-up fantasy book for teenagers with predictable plot twists.

Eragon bit his lip and once again pondered over his chance of survival. It really wasn't looking good. And running only made it worse. The best he could do was to lock himself inside his room and try to talk Murtagh out of killing him. He could live with a broken bone...or three.

The brunet froze when he heard the lock turn. The _fight or flight_ mode set in, his body instantly choosing for him as he hightailed towards his bedroom, slammed the door shut and locked it. He slid down to the floor and tried to keep himself from panicking.

"Oh, Eragon!" Murtagh called out.

Eragon gulped. He wondered if he could push something in front of the door, but knew that Murtagh could break it down long before he managed to push something in front of it. The sound tended to give his actions away a bit too quickly for Eragon's liking.

"Come out now, Eragon. I just want to talk," Murtagh said calmly.

Eragon snorted. He clamped a hand over his mouth and nose, but the shifting on the other side of the door told him he had been too late.

"Eragon," Murtagh growled.

And damn his mind if it didn't immediately notice the tone of Murtagh's voice and presented Eragon with a much more desirable setting to hear it in. Eragon slapped himself and slowly started to inch away from the door.

"You can't hide from me."

Oh, Eragon knew that. But he could still try!

"Really, I just want to talk. Especially about something Thorn told me. I ran into him and Saphira, did you know?" Murtagh said almost sweetly.

Eragon flinched. Oh, that tone only meant disaster. Murtagh wasn't made to sound sweet. It only made him sound creepier.

"They told me the most fascinating thing," the older one continued. "And I almost ran straight back here to...talk to you. Come on out, Eragon. Talking to a door get's old fast."

Too bad that was the only thing Eragon was going to let him talk to. The brunet slowly inched towards his closet and slipped inside. He had tried to hide under the bed the last time, and it had proven to be quite difficult to get him out. He had no idea why. If he could crawl under it, then why was it so difficult to crawl out? And besides, Murtagh had yelled him blue for getting hurt while doing it. The closet was much safer.

"You do realise I have the key to your room, right?" Murtagh told him dryly.

Eragon felt his eyes widen. Fuck, he had forgotten that!

"If I come out, do you promise not to hurt me?" Eragon asked timidly.

"Of course," Murtagh said soothingly. Eragon sat up and reached out to open the closet door. "Not much," and Eragon stiffened.

"Fuck that, I'm staying put!" Eragon said and tried to ignore the way his voice wavered.

"Eragon, Eragon," Murtagh sighed. "It is my obligation as an older brother to kick your ass when you make me worry."

If it hadn't been for the first half of that sentence, Eragon would have smiled. But of course, Eragon knew just how serious Murtagh was. That was why he hid behind the jackets he wished were a lot longer and wondered why his closet couldn't be connected to Narnia. **Anything** was better than facing his brother.

"Murtagh, it's not my fault you think I don't have a brain and can't do anything by myself," Eragon snapped with an uncharacteristic boost of courage.

"Eragon, I don't think that."

Eragon jumped when he noticed that his brother's voice was closer now. When had that prick unlocked his door?!

"You're doing a helluva job of making me think you do!" Eragon said and glared at the thin door separating them.

"That's not it," Murtagh said and Eragon heard him lean onto the door. "I just know how you are. You hate crowds, and there's no place as crowded as a supermarket. And from what Thorn told me, there's no better place to get hit on either."

Eragon flinched. Thorn? How had Thorn known that?? And why the hell hadn't Saphira shut him up!?

"It's not my fault that place was filled with creeps!" Eragon protested.

"How many?" the darker brunet growled.

"Just two," Eragon mumbled.

"Just what?"

"TWO!" Eragon yelled. "I've had worse, don't have a cow."

"...Someone finally managed to locate their spine," Murtagh drawled. "Come out, Eragon."

"No! This wasn't my fault, you have no reason to beat the crap outta me!" Eragon said and tried to keep his voice down; though he had a feeling he was failing.

"Come out of the goddamn closet right this fucking second!" Murtagh hollered.

Eragon didn't know why, but suddenly he started to laugh. He hit his head against the back of the closet and giggled. He fought the urge to tell him that he already had come out of the closet, sexuality wise.

"...I just said that, didn't I?" Murtagh drawled in slight bafflement.

Eragon responded by laughing even louder. He doubled over when he heard Murtagh start to chuckle. They laughed for a good five minutes until only Murtagh's slight chuckles remained.

"Eragon."

Said brunet sighed in defeat. He reached up and opened the door. He stepped out and brushed off his jeans as he did so.

He straightened and prayed to whatever Gods that might be listening that the laughing had put Murtagh in a good mood. He really didn't want to die.

Murtagh pushed the door shut, still not looking away from his younger brother. Eragon gulped and braced himself. He had only prayed he wouldn't get killed. Hurt on the other hand...Because there was no way he was leaving unscratched.

He flinched when Murtagh reached out. He prepared for the pain, and nearly fell over in shock when he felt a hand ruffle through his hair.

"You're not gonna hurt me?" he asked in bewilderment.

"Don't tempt me," Murtagh growled in reply.

"Yes, sir," Eragon meeped and grinned sheepishly.

Murtagh rolled his eyes.

"...I'm sorry for forgetting to charge my phone," Eragon mumbled quietly.

Murtagh sighed. "And I'm sorry for overreacting."

Eragon grinned.

The brothers slid down to the floor and basked in the silence. Murtagh suddenly turned to him, and Eragon fought down the urge to jump back into the closet.

"Is there any way we can make you less cute? Really, you're going to give me gray hairs someday," Murtagh said and eyed him critically.

"...You have too much time on your hands," Eragon replied deadpanned. "You should really stop worrying about my virtue. If you don't, I'll never lose it!"

"Good," the older growled.

Eragon glared at him and promptly shoved him. Murtagh's eyes narrowed and before Eragon could even regret what he had done, Murtagh had him in a headlock and was grinding his knuckles painfully against his scalp.

"OI, LET GO!" Eragon cried out. "It hurts, damn it!"

"Serves you right," the hazel eyed male said darkly. "Making me worry and then mocking me? Oh, you're going down!"

Eragon shrieked and tried his best to fight back. Almost miraculously he managed to grab under Murtagh's arms and start to tickle. The response was immediate.

"AH! Stop it!" Murtagh laughed hysterically.

"You let go of me first!" Eragon said and tickled harder.

"NEVER!" Murtagh somehow managed to growl.

"FINE!" Eragon countered and continued the torture.

A few minutes later they both let go. Eragon clutched his head and glared darkly at his brother. Murtagh on the other hand had crossed his arms over his chest and had stuck his hands in his armpits. Eragon was tempted to laugh at the sight, but a warning glare from Murtagh stopped it just in time.

"Truce?" Eragon asked.

Murtagh snorted. "Fine, truce."

"Good. Now get out of my room," Eragon said and ruffled his hair in hope it would somehow make it look better. "Don't you have some studying to do?"

Murtagh swore. He stood and, with one last glance at the brunet, walked out of the room. Eragon watched him go and made sure he was out of sight before grinning widely. He thrust his arms into the air and mentally whooped in joy. He had survived!

-:-

Murtagh spent the rest of the day studying. His mind had calculated the time he had lost worrying over Eragon, and he made up for it by eating in his room and reminded himself to go asleep an hour later than normal.

He glanced at the clock and was shocked to see that it was one AM already. He sighed and stood up. He would get a glass of water and then go to bed.

Murtagh winced when his legs protested from being in one position for too long. He wobbled into the other room and gulped down a glass before refilling it. As he walked back to his room, he noticed that Eragon's door was still open. He frowned, put the glass down on his desk, and walked over to check on his brother.

Eragon had already gone to bed, and true to his fashion, he couldn't even make sleeping look tidy. Murtagh absentmindedly closed the laptop as he passed it on his way over to the brunet.

Eragon had kicked off his covers sometime after falling asleep. Murtagh sighed and pulled the covers back over him. He chuckled when Eragon sighed softly and smiled in his sleep. Murtagh knew that his brother was going to be the death of him someday, but he didn't mind. The brunet was far too cute for Murtagh to be able to stay angry at him.

Murtagh leaned down and planted a soft kiss on Eragon's forehead. He blinked in surprise when the brunet whined in his sleep. He snorted and got ready to pull back. It was at that time that Eragon decided to tip his head back. Their lips brushed.

The hazel eyed male spluttered and pulled away hastily. His heart was in his throat as he waited for Eragon to wake up and start yelling at him. Minutes passed and still nothing happened. Murtagh let out a relieved sigh. He turned around to walk out, but something held him back. His lips felt cold and fuck it if he didn't know why. Murtagh growled.

Before the courage could fail him, Murtagh leaned down and softly kissed Eragon on his lips. The contact ended after a few seconds, but damn if it didn't leave his heart thundering in his chest. Eragon sighed softly and Murtagh flinched back. He shook his head and bolted out of the room.

Murtagh swore quietly to himself and closed the door firmly to his own room. A small smile entered his lips and he let out a quiet laugh. He brushed a finger against his lips before getting ready for bed and slipping under the covers.

He had always said that Eragon was too cute for his own good, but maybe that wasn't such a bad thing after all.

* * *

**A/N** ...Was it just me or was that chapter actually tame? :blinks: Huh. I can actually write tame stuff. Interesting...

But the sweetness is killing me. Now I must go and write something darker, something heavier. Preferably something with smutt. I'm in desperate need to cleanse myself just for having read this over. :shudder: But now, as of Desember 2009, I am happy to say that there is more to this story. Chapter two is soon to be posted, and it is not the end of this universe. Stay tuned for (oh God) more fluff.

When it comes to this sentence; "_It sounded like something out of a messed-up fantasy book series for teenagers with predictable plot twists._" I was not oh-so-sneakily hinting at the Inheritance Cycle, no-no. :whistles innocently:

About _Obsession_; please stop asking me when I'm going to post the next chapter. Things are very hectic right now, but it's coming. I may have to post something else before I can update _Obs_, though. What that is, I don't know. You guys will just have to wait and see.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this little piece of fluff. G'night all.


	2. The Laundry Incident

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Eragon or anything associated with the Inheritance Cycle.

**Claimer: **I, SussieKitten, own this plot and the story. Borrow or steal my plot, my (when used) original characters or story and I will report you. I also own my version of Saphira/Thorn's human appearances.

**Warnings:** Slash/Shōnen-ai – meaning mild guy x guy action. Swearing or strong language. Fluff - seriously, beware the fluff! Attempt at humour - read: attempt. If any of this disturbs you, click on the "back" button. I won't tolerate any flames.

**A/N** Thank you so much for all the positive feedback from the first part of this story. It really means a lot to hear that I can do some light comedy as well.

In this chapter you will be able to witness, not only one of Eragon's infamous klutzy episodes, but why he isn't allowed to wash his own clothes. And not only that, but you will be able to witness a new trait; imagination gone wild. You can also just call it assumptions, but the way Eragon goes on and on about it, it seems more like imagination gone wild. You'll understand what I mean when you get there.

This part is beta'ed by **rAbIdmutt03**. Thanks again, dude!

* * *

_**Just Another Ordinary Day**_

_**Chapter Two**_

_**The Laundry Incident**_

Eragon was dead. So dead. Murtagh was going to kill him. He was going to gut him, strangle him with his own intestines, and then bring him back so that he could kill him again.

Eragon stared down at the mess in front of him. His hands were gripping the edge of the washing machine tightly. Yes, you had heard him right; the _washing machine_. The reason Murtagh was going to kill him as painfully as humanly possible.

There weren't a lot of things that Eragon struggled with, but he had never been good at washing his clothes. It wasn't because his mother smothered him and he had just never learned how to do it. Oh no. Selena had actually pulled him aside and made him learn how to work the damn machine. But when he had tried to do it by himself, Eragon would have to say that he had failed spectacularly. He had been banned from using the washing machine since.

But there he was. Because of the stupidity that was his brother, Eragon had been forced to do the laundry himself. Really, Murtagh had picked the worst time to come down with a cold. Or, well, Eragon couldn't call it a cold. Murtagh hadn't come out of his room. The only times Eragon had heard from his brother was when he was bent over the toilet, puking his guts out, when he groaned like --well, Eragon would rather not think about that-- and when Murtagh oh so subtly begged the heavens to kill him.

Because of Murtagh's flu-rendered state, Eragon was forced to cook and do the chores. Unfortunately, Murtagh had gotten sick on the same day as he usually did the laundry. Now, this was no problem for the oldest brother. He was bedridden and for all Eragon knew, had been wearing the same shirt and pyjama pants for a week. Eragon however was not that lucky.

That explained why he was there, with another visual reminder of why he was under **no circumstances** allowed to do the laundry. But he couldn't afford to buy clothes to wear, so he had had no choice.

Right now, he wished he had swallowed his pride earlier and asked Saphira for help.

"What the heck am I going to do?" Eragon whispered to himself and pulled out a t-shirt that, prior to being washed, had been white. Now it was white with specks of blue, pink, green and brown. Thankfully it hadn't been one of his favourite t-shirts.

He had still no idea how the pink had gotten there, though.

Eragon sighed and put it in the bag. That was just the first garment. There was more horror to come, he was sure.

Eragon was not surprised when he found that his socks looked alarmingly smaller than normal. None of his other clothes looked smaller, but of course his socks had shrunk. The brunet sulked.

The majority of the clothes had survived the wash, but Eragon was still stuck with a multicoloured t-shirt, too-small socks, a sweater that now had one arm that was longer than the other, a black t-shirt that now was grey and a pair of jeans that looked very stiff.

Eragon sighed for what had to be the tenth time. He left the Laundromat with the bag of clothes over his shoulder. He hoped --as evil as it sounded-- that Murtagh was too sick to come out of the room when he came back. He would rather not be killed before his final exams.

The brunet put down the bag and searched around for the key. He finally found it two minutes later, in his back pocket of all things, and unlocked the door. He peeked inside before actually daring to step over the threshold. Phew. It seemed like Murtagh was still sick. Eragon slipped inside, closed the door soundlessly and tiptoed to his room. There he paused and listened.

Still nothing. Murtagh was probably asleep. Eragon slipped inside his room and started to put away his clothes. And by putting away, he meant shoving it into the closet and slamming the door shut before everything in it could fall out.

Really, it was a miracle that he had managed to fit inside there just two months earlier during the infamous _grocery store incident_. Or so Murtagh called it, anyway. Eragon snorted. His brother really blew things out of proportion. It wasn't that big of a deal!

Eragon ruffled a hand through his hair. He looked over at the bed where he had put the damaged clothes. He wasn't sure what he was going to do with them. He bit his lip. Had he known how to sew or something, he could probably have fixed the sweater. And maybe, just maybe, he could give the jeans a clothing-softener bath or something and they would be ok.

But before he did anything else, he would talk to Saphira. There had been enough accidents for one day.

Eragon plumped down on the bed and sighed. He would postpone talking to Saphira a little bit longer, though. He'd rather not be inside when she started to laugh insanely on the other end of the phone. Because he just knew that was what she was going to do. He'd rather be outside when Murtagh couldn't 'accidentally' --accidentally my ass, Eragon thought to himself-- stumble upon the scene.

He picked absently at the grey t-shirt. He picked it up and looked at it. He couldn't quite remember which shirt it was. Or had been. Eragon flipped the shirt so the outside was one again on the outside. He promptly paled.

"Oh, fuck no."

It was one of Murtagh's. How could he have been so stupid? He had ruined one of Murtagh's shirts! He really was doomed now.

Eragon quickly hid the ruined clothes and grabbed his phone. It seemed like he was going to talk to Saphira a little earlier than expected. He managed to catch himself just in time before he tripped on his way out of the door. That threshold was too mischievous for its own good. One of these days, Eragon just might rip it up. It most certainly deserved it for all the times it had made him trip and fall on his face.

"Eragon?"

Holy fuck! "Murtagh!" Eragon squeaked loudly and turned around, a hand over his heart. "Don't scare me like that!!"

Murtagh just winced. One of his hands was gripping the doorframe while the other was on his sweaty forehead.

Eragon hated to admit it, but he had never seen anyone look so sexy while they were sick. Murtagh's hair was a mess and had been pulled back in a messy and half-assed ponytail. His low riding pyjama pants were practically falling off his hips and the tank-top he was wearing was practically skin-tight and had ridden up slightly. Murtagh had thrown on a hooded jacket, probably just as an afterthought or because he felt cold, which hung around his frame. When he looked up, Eragon cursed himself for flushing at his brother's fever-bright eyes.

"Keep it down, could you?" Murtagh said huskily. He let out a painful sounding cough. "What's the racket about?"

Racket? "What racket?" Eragon blinked. He was sure he had been as quiet as a mouse.

Murtagh waved him off. "Where are you going?"

Eragon frowned. Then he remembered. Murtagh's shirt. Saphira. Right! He needed a plausible lie. Fast.

"I was supposed to meet Saphira ten minutes ago," he said and rubbed the back of his neck slightly. "I'm sorry I woke you."

Murtagh shook his head, then winced. Obviously that hadn't been a good idea. "Food?"

Eragon blinked. He actually felt well enough to try food? "Um..." Eragon walked into the kitchen and started to roam about for anything he thought Murtagh could keep down. "We have noodles, a couple of light soups, crackers and there's fruit in the fridge."

Murtagh gave a slight nod. He winced yet again. Eragon felt bad for him. He couldn't understand how he had gotten up at all if just moving his head hurt.

"...Just go back to bed. I'll fix you something," Eragon shooed him and grabbed the instant noodles from the shelf.

"What? No, I can take care of it myself."

Eragon shot Murtagh a disbelieving look. The older brother hadn't even managed to move away from the doorway yet. Murtagh scowled at him.

"Seriously, go back to bed. Give me five minutes."

Murtagh coughed painfully again. Eragon winced. "What about Saphira?" Murtagh asked, his voice sounding horribly raspy.

...Oops. "I'll text her. She'll understand. Now shoo!"

Murtagh finally caved and walked back to bed. Eragon sighed. Honestly. He waited for the water to boil while looking around for Murtagh's favourite crackers. Thankfully they were salty; perfect for a flu-ridden stomach. He then walked to the fridge and got an apple and a bottle of water. He put them next to the crackers and got out a bowl and spoon.

He put the chicken-flavoured noodles into the water once it had finally started to boil. He then noted the time and mentally calculated when they would be finished.

He drummed his fingers against the counter as he waited. As he stood there, he didn't even notice Murtagh walking out until the TV was suddenly turned on. He jolted and looked over at the TV corner.

Eragon was tempted to go 'awww'. Murtagh had gotten his pillow and blankets and had made himself comfortable on the couch. He was moving at a much slower pace, but Murtagh was acting like his usual self; surfing through the channels without really checking what was on them. He was laying sideways, his head lying comfortably on the pillow while the blanket covered his legs and stomach. He actually almost looked cute.

The brunet forced himself to look back at the noodles. He checked that they were in fact done and turned off the stove. He poured over the noodles and chicken-broth and carried the bowl over to Murtagh. He then walked back, got the bottle of water, box of crackers and the apple.

"There. Now you have plenty to choose from," Eragon said and nodded his head.

Murtagh looked at him. He gave a tired smile. "Thanks, kiddo."

Eragon fought down the blush that was threatening to come forward. "It was nothing. Do you want anything else before I go?"

"No, I'm good."

Eragon walked back to the kitchen anyway, got a glass and an ice-tray from the freezer. He put a good couple of cubes into the glass and walked back with it. Murtagh gave him another smile.

"I'll be back in a few hours. Try not to die on me, ok?" Eragon smiled back sheepishly.

The other gave a slight smirk. "I'll try."

Eragon waved and left. He was proud to say that he managed to wait until he was outside of the door before starting to run.

-:-

"Oh, Eragon," Saphira sighed.

Eragon pouted. She made it sound like he couldn't do anything right.

"You really should have asked for my help," she shook her head. "How bad was it?"

Eragon squirmed. He crossed his legs before uncrossing them again. He leaned back against the wall and looked back at the girl beside him.

He hadn't even bothered to call when he had left the apartment. He had just run over to Saphira's place, knocked and rushed inside as soon as the blonde had opened the door. He was really glad Thorn wasn't there, though. He had yet to walk in on them doing anything, and it was not something Eragon wanted to do. Ever. If he did, he would kill himself with a spatula.

So there he was, sitting on Saphira's far too comfortable bed and once again spilling his guts to his best friend for the ten-thousandth time during their friendship.

...Alright, so maybe he couldn't really do anything right.

Eragon shook his head and retold the damages to Saphira. It took her a whole five seconds before she started to laugh. It took her two minutes before she was able to form a full sentence again.

"I really don't get it," she giggled. "How can anyone shrink socks?"

Eragon gave her a sullen glare. Saphira let out another giggle before trying to look serious. "Right. Next time, I really suggest that you let me handle your laundry."

Eragon blushed. There were things he didn't want her to wash; his underwear for one.

...Then again, he let Murtagh wash those, and he actually had a crush on his brother, so...The world sucked. Hard.

Saphira let out another soft giggle. "I promise not to ogle your underwear," she winked at him.

"Can we get back to the real problem here?" he asked sulkily.

Saphira nodded. "Just give me the pants and the sweater, and I'll make sure they're as good as new when you get them back. There isn't much I can do for the socks," she stifled a giggle, "or the t-shirts. They're ruined, I'm afraid."

"...Um...about the grey one..."

Saphira looked at him. Eragon felt himself blush. "It's..." he muttered the rest under his breath.

"I'm sorry?"

Eragon cursed. "It's Murtagh's," he whispered.

The blonde girl fell silent again. A few seconds later she was laughing again. Eragon felt an odd urge to slam his head against the wall behind him. He did so.

"Oh, don't panic," Saphira yanked at his collar and forced Eragon to sit up straight. "Which shirt is it?"

"Um..." Eragon tried his best to remember what it looked like. "I think it's a band t-shirt. It had a logo with a...skull and guns on it? Yeah, I think that was it."

Saphira frowned in thought. "I think I know the one you're talking about. That's actually one of his favourites, you know."

Eragon did. He cursed the blush that strained his cheeks.

"But we can replace it just fine. It'll cost you, though," she bit her lip.

Eragon knew that, but it was better than paying for it with his life.

Saphira stood and grabbed his hand, forcing him to stumble out of the bed. He shot her a glare when he nearly stumbled on the edge of his jeans. "Oh, don't give me that. I'm saving your ass here. C'mon, I think I know where we can get the shirt."

Eragon blinked. She had come up with a solution that fast?

"You know, if this happens again," Saphira looked at him as she grabbed her jacket from the hanger beside the door, "take a picture of the shirt."

Eragon blushed. He should have thought of that.

"Now come on!"

He yelped as he tripped when Saphira pulled him out of the door. From now on, his number one arch enemy was doorways. They needed to die; preferably before they killed him.

-:-

Eragon blinked when Saphira pulled him inside a record store. Granted, he knew Saphira was looking for a band tee, but wasn't there better places for that? Like the alternative clothing store further down the street?

"Um, Saphira?"

"Shush," she pulled him along until he found himself being pushed at a clothing rack.

Huh. There was actually a clothing rack inside a record store. Thing sure had changed with time.

"You look at that one. I'll check this one," she said and started to rotate the rack in front of her.

Eragon sighed. He checked out his own rack. It was one of those annoying ones that squeaked really loudly when you rotated them. Sometimes you could avoid the noise by walking around them, but most stores like to place those racks in a corner or really close to each other, forcing you to rotate them. Eragon scowled. Damn people. He squared his shoulders and started to check out the selection.

There were actually a few t-shirts to look through. Eragon flipped through all of them, just to make sure that a few shirts hadn't just been placed on the same hook as a different band.

"Is this the one?"

Eragon looked away from the bundle of Metallica shirts he had been looking through. He took in the picture on the t-shirt pack Saphira was holding in front of him.

A skull, two guns in the background, a couple of roses, red, sand and green colours...it was the right one. "Yes!" he grinned.

Saphira rolled her eyes. "Figures. It's BFMV."

He blinked. "It's what?"

Saphira shoved the shirt into his arms. "BFMV," she pointed at the letters in the band name. "Bullet For My Valentine."

Right. Eragon thought he had heard his brother listen to them a few times. He checked out the price and winced. "Figures."

Saphira nodded. "It's a band t-shirt. They are never cheap."

He knew that. He had literally gaped when Murtagh had gotten him one for his birthday two years ago. He was very careful with that shirt. There was no way he was washing that one himself.

"I guess it can't be helped," the brunet sighed. "Let's go and pay for this."

"Hold on," Saphira held him back. "What's his size?"

Eragon halted. Shit. How the hell was he supposed to remember that?

"Well, you've obviously been borrowing it," Saphira sent him a private smirk. "How big was it on you?"

Eragon tried to remember. "I have no idea. I know it wasn't small, but that leaves us with medium and large."

Saphira sighed. "There is only one thing you can do." He did not like the sound of that. "Give me enough money to buy it, go home and check and then call me with the size. I'll give it to you tomorrow or something."

That actually sounded like a good plan. However, there was one downside to it. He would have to go home.

"Oh, don't give me that look," the blonde snorted. "You have to go home sometime. Just because Murtagh managed to crawl out of his room this afternoon doesn't mean he'll be healthy as a horse when you come home. Despite what you think, the entire universe isn't out to get you."

"No, just a small part of it," Eragon drawled. "By the way, I hate it when you read my mind."

Saphira winked at him. "I know."

-:-

Eragon stared at the front door a long time before he dared to even reach for his keys. Now that Murtagh was almost up and about, he was a little more afraid of going inside. Damn him and his persistence. Hadn't he learned by now that he should not do complex --and sometimes easy-- things unsupervised? He sighed. Apparently not.

Eragon unlocked the door and stepped way over the threshold. He really didn't trust those anymore. He kicked off his shoes and looked up.

Yup, Murtagh was still there. It looked like he had fallen asleep, though. Eragon bit his lip. There he went, thinking his brother was cute again. If Murtagh had known, he would have been mutilated, because his brother was just that kind.

He closed and locked the door quietly. He then began to remove the dishes. Murtagh had almost finished the noodles, but he hadn't touched the apple. Eragon left the crackers on the table. He then walked into Murtagh's room. He made sure to breathe through his mouth as he cleaned up the tissues from the floor. He then opened the window to air the room. It smelled heavily of sweat and sickness. He then grabbed the bucket by Murtagh's bed and went to wash it.

He returned to the living room about ten minutes later. Murtagh was still asleep. Eragon put a new pack of tissues on the table and put the wastebasket within Murtagh's reach. He then put the plastic bucket beside the couch. Eragon remembered the times Murtagh had done this for him when he had been sick. Sometimes you were just unable to reach the bathroom in time. He also remembered the three o'clock wash Murtagh had been forced to start because Eragon had thrown up on his bedding. Eragon was in no condition to be able to do the same for his older brother.

Eragon shook his head. He was getting side-tracked. He padded over to his room and slipped inside. Then he rummaged around until he found the ruined clothes. He really needed to pay better attention to where he put stuff. He made sure it was the right one, made sure the motive was the same as the one in the store before checking the size.

He knew Saphira had told him to call her, but texting seemed less risky. He didn't want to accidentally wake Murtagh up by talking too loudly. He quickly texted Saphira the size before putting the clothes away again. He got a reply before he was finished.

_(Large? Cool. You sure it's the same one?)_

Eragon rolled his eyes. Yes, he was sure. He wasn't a complete retard. He laid out the shirt, which had been the last thing he had planned to put away, and took a picture of the front. He then sent that to Saphira with the message _(yes, I'm sure)_.

Saphira texted him back quickly. _(It looks like the same one. I'll give the new one to you Monday. We'll talk more then)_

Talk? What on earth did she want to talk about? He asked her just that.

_(Patience. I'll tell you on Monday)_ was all she said. Eragon frowned. That couldn't bode well. Nevertheless, there was nothing he could do. There was no way she would tell him what was on her mind until the appointed time.

Eragon sighed and sat down. Now what? There was only so much he could do with a sick brother in the next room.

He let out another sigh. The only thing he could think of was studying for his exams. Whoopedi-fucking-doo. Eragon changed his shirt, grabbed his iPod and textbooks and sat down on his bed. Then he started to read, making sure that one of his ears was listening to what his brother might be up to.

-:-

Eragon jolted awake. It was dark, really dark. Where the heck was he?

He stood up and yelped when the book that had been covering his eyes promptly fell into his lap. Right. He had been in his room studying. He must have fallen asleep during the...he couldn't remember. No wonder he had fallen asleep.

Eragon yawned and stretched. He had no idea what time it was, but he was hungry. It was dinner time.

He padded over to the door and opened in it, mentally going over what they had to eat. It only took him two seconds to live up the nickname Murtagh had so fondly given him; Klutz.

Eragon first tripped over the threshold, slid sideways on the carpet their mother had forced them to put in the apartment, connected with a chair that mysteriously had found its way in the middle of the living room and landed face-first onto the surprisingly lumpy couch.

He cursed loudly. The world wasn't out to get him, huh? He'd show Saphira.

But he hadn't been the only one who had cursed. The couch had actually let out a rather colourful string of profanities. Eragon wondered when couches had learned to talk.

"The fuck do you think you're doing, Eragon?!"

...Probably when they were already occupied.

Eragon yelped and scooted back. He promptly scooted too far and landed on the floor, his legs still hanging over the armrest. He groaned. Great, now his head, back, ass _and_ legs hurt.

"I'd get up and ask how you were, but I can't."

Eragon scowled up at the ceiling. Oh, really? He'd show that prick just who was in more pain at the moment. He got up and opened his mouth to give Murtagh the reprimand that he deserved.

"Seriously, are you trying to make the family name end with us?" Murtagh hissed.

The brunet paled. He hadn't just landed on the couch; he had landed --judging by the way he was cupping himself-- in Murtagh's lap. Oh God.

He felt himself blush hotly as Murtagh continued to curse. Then he remembered something Murtagh had said. "What do you mean 'trying to make the family name end with us'? We're both gay! It ends with us anyway! ...Biologically, anyway."

Murtagh snorted loudly. "Sure, whatever."

Oh. God. Eragon's eyes widened. Murtagh had discovered that he wasn't gay after all. He was bisexual, and now he had somehow fallen for a girl. He was in a relationship, but he was keeping it a secret so his fangirls wouldn't maim his girlfriend. And-and they were so serious that Murtagh was planning to propose to her. They had probably already discussed what to name their kids. No, that didn't sound like Murtagh. He probably already knew what he was going to name the kids, because he was a control-freak like that.

"For fucks sake, could you stop thinking? You're making _my_ head hurt."

Eragon scowled at him. Murtagh had no right to make fun of him when he was the one in an über-secret relationship that he couldn't even tell his own little brother about!

"...Seriously, stop thinking," Murtagh sat up. Apparently he found that this was a mistake, because he got a really pained look on his face and slid back down. "You have that 'I'm thinking crazy stuff' look on your face again."

Eragon was very tempted to smack him. "I'm not thinking crazy stuff! You're the one that has been keeping secrets from me!!"

Murtagh blinked. He looked at Eragon suspiciously. "I'm sorry?"

"Yeah! You're the one who's in a secret relationship with some preppy girl who probably has a preppy name like, like Anasua! Or something! And you're planning on marrying her and having kids with her! And -"

"Woah, hold it right there!" Murtagh interrupted. "Girl? Marriage? _Kids_? Your mind can be seriously dangerous sometimes."

The brunet glared at him.

"I'm gay, as you established two minutes ago. I refuse to get married unless I'm madly in love with the dude and gay marriage stays legal. And kids? I hate kids, Eragon."

Eragon fell silent. "...But you said..."

"I have no idea what I said to make your imagination go nuts, but whatever it was, forget it. I'm not in a relationship, certainly not with a girl, and I'm not about to get married and have kids," Murtagh shuddered.

It seemed like Murtagh was slowly returning back to his normal state. Eragon wasn't sure whether that was a good or a bad thing. "...Well, at least you're feeling better," Eragon crossed his arms over his chest.

Murtagh grimaced.

"B-besides your..." Eragon blushed. "I'm sorry about that."

"I'll live," the other said hoarsely.

"...How are you feeling? You know, besides _that_," he asked softly. Eragon really wished the blush could leave his cheeks. So what if he had connected face-first with Murtagh's crotch?

...Ok, thinking that only made his blush worse.

"Better," Murtagh rubbed a hand over his face. "I think I'll be ready to go back to school on Monday."

Eragon was not convinced. Murtagh had been a mess for two weeks, and after one day outside of his room he was confident enough to back to his classes? "...Really?"

"Yes, really," Murtagh sent him a mild glare.

"I mean no harm, but...you've been down for two weeks. Don't you think you should take it easy for a couple of more days?"

Murtagh did not look amused.

"Alright. But it's not my fault if you faint on your way to campus," Eragon shrugged and walked over to the kitchen. He was hungry, damnit, and Murtagh had delayed him by at least fifteen minutes. He wanted food!

"...Hey, could you fix me something, too?"

Eragon sighed. Damn Murtagh. What did he look like, his personal slave? But still, Eragon found himself making a light meal for his brother.

Damn Murtagh, alright; damn him all the way to hell.

-:-

Eragon was thoroughly confused when he woke up two days later. One minute he had been asleep and in the middle of a rather, _ahem_, private dream, and the next he had been on the floor. He had landed face-down at that. Suddenly he knew how Murtagh must have felt a few days before.

"What the fuck?" he croaked and looked over his shoulder.

Saphira crocked an eyebrow. "Still abed at this hour? Tut, tut Eragon."

"Oh, fuck you," he grunted. He would have gotten up, but he was afraid that his _problem_ would still be present and that he'd let out a rather embarrassing whimper if he tried to move.

"Come on now, Eragon. I don't have all day."

"Why not?" he tried to sit up. He bit back a moan. Ok, yeah, that hurt.

"Because it's Monday and I have a class in two hours. So get your lazy ass up," Saphira huffed.

Wait, what? It was Monday?! "CRAP!" Eragon jumped up and skidded into the bathroom. He did his morning business and grabbed the jeans he had worn the day before. It took a while to jump into them, mostly due to his wobbly knees. He hated hurrying when he had just woken up. Everything was just a blur, his vocabulary mostly consisted of swear words and his brain was not really up and running. Eragon grabbed a random t-shirt from his closet, put it on and grabbed the jacket that hung on the back of his chair. He tried to wrestle his arms into the arms of the jacket while trying to remember where he had stashed his clean socks.

"Woah, Eragon, calm down," Saphira put her hands on his shoulders. "It's nine A.M."

Eragon froze. "Wha?"

"It's nine A.M.," she repeated. "You're not late for class."

Eragon sat down on his unmade bed. He ruffled a hand through his hair. "Then why are you here?"

Saphira crocked an eyebrow. "Murtagh's t-shirt, remember?"

Right. Crap. Eragon winced. "Yeah. Where is it?"

Saphira pulled the t-shirt out of her bag while Eragon finally managed to wrestle his right arm into the jacket. He pulled the zipper up halfway and fixed the hood.

"Here," the blonde said and gave it to him. "I took the liberty of washing it last night so it wouldn't feel or smell fresh."

Eragon took it. "Thank you. I hadn't even thought about that."

Saphira smirked. "I figured you wouldn't."

Eragon gave her a sour look.

"Anyway, now you just need an opportunity to put it away," Saphira fixed the strap on her bag. "Good thing Murtagh's determined to go to school today, hm?"

Eragon shrugged. "Maybe. Our classes overlap. I get out forty-five minutes before he does. That means that I have maybe fifteen minutes to find a spot for it and appear busy when he comes home. And that's only if he manages to stay there for all three of his classes."

"Oh, don't be such a pessimist. You'll find a way into his room, no sweat," she winked at him.

The brunet felt his face flush. The way she said it made it sound like she meant 'his bed' instead of 'his room'. Saphira giggled afterwards. Obviously she had meant it to be taken as such.

"You suck," he glared at her. "It's not easy, you know!"

"I know, Eragon. But sometimes I really can't help it," she grinned sheepishly.

Eragon scowled at her. He put a bag around the t-shirt and carefully put it into his bag. Sure she couldn't. It wasn't like she got her jollies off mocking him.

No wait, that wasn't her. That was Aksel. He shook his head. Whatever then.

Saphira grabbed his arm and began to pull him out of his room. Eragon barely managed to grab his phone from his bedside table before it was out of reach. "Come on. I skipped breakfast to get you. You're treating me."

"What!? It's not my fault you had to come here first thing!"

Saphira gave him a look. "Oh yes, it is."

Eragon felt himself blush again. Right, it was.

"Now come on. I'm starving!"

Eragon just grumbled under his breath. He could already feel his wallet getting lighter.

-:-

Eragon felt his heart thundering in his chest as he stood outside the door. Ever since he had gotten out of class, he had been running. He had actually managed to catch the bus that he usually missed due to his laziness. And when he had gotten off, he had run into the apartment complex and up the stairs. Now he was outside the door, desperately trying to catch his breath.

Usually Murtagh would drive him to school, but thanks to Saphira and her demands that he'd buy her breakfast, he had been forced to take the bus back and forth. And now he was finally home.

Eragon gulped and pulled his keys out of his bag. The moment of truth had arrived. He gave a small prayer that Murtagh had managed to stay for all three of his classes and unlocked the door. He let out a relieved breath when he only heard silence. It appeared that Murtagh wasn't home.

The brunet walked inside and kicked off his shoes. He quickly disposed of his bag and pulled out the t-shirt. Then he walked over to Murtagh's room. He put his ear on the door and listened just to be sure that his older brother was in fact not home. He knocked, on the door, just to be sure, and entered. When Eragon was sure that Murtagh wasn't in some dark corner waiting to ambush him, he stalked over to the dresser and opened it.

Murtagh was a neat-freak. Eragon would never have guessed. The rest of the room was in a soft of comfortable messy state, but his dresser was something entirely different. For a second Eragon was worried that it was colour-coded.

Even though it was apparent that it wasn't colour-coded, there was definitely some sort of order in the way the clothes were put. "Shit," Eragon whispered. He had no idea what sort of order it was and he couldn't very well start to poke around to see if there were a stack of band-tees he could but the one in his hand with.

Eragon spent the next five minutes looking about almost frantically. Apparently he had no other choice. He had to look closer. He couldn't afford to try to pull this off another day. He might never get another chance.

The brunet gently lifted the neatly folded t-shirts and tried to see if any of them had logos. The bastard actually had a shelf just for t-shirts. Just when Eragon had thought that Murtagh couldn't get any weirder...

He paused suddenly. There, a logo. He lifted the shirts a little higher and checked it out. Disturbed. That was a band! Eragon checked out the shirt under it. HIM. Well, it looked like a band-tee, so Eragon figured he had hit jackpot. He smiled to himself and carefully put the t-shirt in his hand on top of the pile. Then he closed the dresser and walked out, closing the door behind him.

"Eragon?"

Mother of fuck! Eragon slid on the carpet and felt the air leave him when his chest connected with the couch. His arms had flown over the back of the couch and his legs were stretched out behind him. He slumped forward and rested his chin on his arms, unwilling to move. Eragon blew a stray piece of forelock away from his eyes. His chest really hurt. He was burning that evil carpet. Selena would never know. He could tell her that it got stolen. Or something.

"Eragon."

Oh right! There was a reason he had taken the swan dive. Eragon bit back a groan. Why oh why was Murtagh back early!?

"What the fuck are you doing?" Murtagh asked. Eragon felt a shiver run down his spine. His brother's voice was still husky, a tell-tale sign that he had been sick for the past two weeks.

"I'm making a fool out of myself," Eragon muttered darkly.

"Yes, I can see that." Murtagh's voice was coming closer. Why was it coming closer? Eragon peeked up and upon seeing Murtagh right in front of him, fell backwards and landed quite nicely on his behind. Great, now his ass was hurting again.

"Seriously, what the hell?" Murtagh walked around the couch and looked down at him.

"I'm practicing for Klutz Olympics," Eragon drawled. He stood up and started to massage his behind. Ok, that hurt! He wasn't doing that again.

Murtagh crocked an eyebrow in disbelief. "Right."

Eragon felt his face pale. Oh crap. Here it came. Murtagh was going to ask him what he had been doing in his room. Double crap.

"So, how are you feeling?" he asked, hoping against hope that he didn't sound panicked.

Murtagh blinked. "Better, thanks," he fixed his grip on the bag he had thrown over his shoulder. "Eragon -"

"That's good," Eragon smiled. "You look better. Or, you know, you look less of a health hazard."

The other male stared at him suspiciously. "Are _you_ feeling ok, Eragon?"

"Who, me? Of course I am," his grin widened. "A little woozy from the fall, but you know I'm used to that by now." What, what had he just said?

"Yeah, about that -"

"I was planning on having pasta for dinner. That ok with you?" Eragon didn't wait for Murtagh to give any response before continuing. "Ok, good! I have stuff I need to do, so I'll talk to you later."

Eragon had to admit that his exit could have gone more smoothly. He had practically skidded around Murtagh and had nearly flown over his doorstep, but at least he had gotten to his room in once piece. And as a bonus, Murtagh hadn't had the time to question him.

The brunet slid down to the floor. He was only safe for now, he knew that, but he needed all the time he could get to cook up a plausible excuse.

-:-

By the time dinner rolled around, Eragon was really surprised to exit his room and see Murtagh by the stove. He tried to slip back into his room, but Murtagh turned around and caught him.

"I was just about to call you. Dinner's ready."

Eragon blinked. Murtagh had cooked dinner? He walked out of his room, scratching his left arm nervously. This couldn't be good. It also totally ruined his plan. He had planned on cooking dinner by himself and fleeing to his room. Apparently that wasn't an option anymore.

They both filled a plate and sat down by the coffee table in the living room to eat.

At first, Eragon was sure that Murtagh was going to question him, but nothing came. Murtagh had picked up the remote when he sat down and had turned on the TV. Now he was flipping through channels between bites. He finally settled on a channel and continued to eat.

Eragon remained a little stiff. He had a feeling that Murtagh was just trying to trick him into thinking he had gotten away with it.

He spent the time looking at Murtagh from out of the corner of his eye while trying to look casual. He had a feeling he was failing, as he kept forgetting to eat. Which really was a sin. Murtagh was an excellent cook; he just despised cooking. He said it took too long. Eragon shook his head and forced himself to eat. If Murtagh wanted to question him, there was nothing he could do. Murtagh was stubbornness personified.

He was truly surprised when Murtagh got up and put his plate away. Fifteen minutes had gone by, and nothing had happened. Murtagh had barely even looked at him.

Eragon nibbled on his second helping and wondered if perhaps he really had gotten away with it.

"Say Eragon, is that my shirt?"

Eragon nearly choked. He forced himself to swallow the food in his mouth and took a sip of water before daring to look at Murtagh. His brother hadn't moved from the kitchen area, but he was looking at him. Eragon gulped. Then he registered what Murtagh had said.

"What?" he blinked.

Murtagh crocked an eyebrow. "Aren't you wearing my shirt?" he asked again.

Eragon looked down at himself. His eyes widened in horror. He was wearing Murtagh's shirt, the one he and Saphira had so carefully replaced. He tugged at the grey material in disbelief. He was an idiot. After all the planning he and Saphira had done, he had managed to grab the wrong shirt this morning and put it on. Fuck!

"Um, no?"

"Well, it sure looks like it. And it would explain why there was a size-sticker on the shirt that I found in my dresser," Murtagh crossed his arms.

Eragon suddenly had the urge to slam his forehead into the table. He and Saphira were both idiots.

"So, care to tell me what happened?"

He was doomed. There was nothing he could do but to tell Murtagh the truth. He silently mourned for whatever manhood he was bound to lose once he finished his tale.

Saphira was so going down later.

* * *

**A/N** I know I said I wouldn't write another part in this story, but I got bored one day and couldn't write anything on any of my other stories. So I gave this story a shot. And what do you know? Something actually came out of it. If it's good, well...meh.

Fun fact; I actually know someone who managed to shrink her socks once. She has no idea how she did it either. Lol.

I didn't mean to fixate so much on Murtagh's illness, but the story just evolved this way. Besides, I think it's kind of cute; Eragon taking care of Murtagh for once. It'll probably never happen again. Hehe.

I suppose people might still ask me why I continue with the slash hints when it seems like nothing is going to come of it. Well, it's because when I first wrote this story, I planned it to be like it's now; with multiple chapters with various degrees of slash. So when I initially lost the will to continue it, I didn't want to cut out the slash, because I felt it would make the story lose some of its essence. And now that I've gotten more plot bunnies, maybe the slash will have a purpose after all. ;)

That's all for now. G'night everyone.


	3. The Cleaning Incident

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Eragon or anything associated with the Inheritance Cycle.

**Claimer: **I, SussieKitten, own this plot and the story. Borrow or steal my plot, my original characters (when used) or story and I will report you. I also own my version of Saphira/Thorn's human appearances.

**Warnings:** Slash/Shōnen-ai – meaning mild guy x guy action. Swearing or strong language. Humour elements – yes, beware the humour, people. If any of this disturbs you, click on the "back" button. I won't tolerate any flames.

**A/N** Another story that I wanted to get out during the holidays. A bit late, but oh well. Hehe.

A huge thanks to everyone who reviewed and to those that still reads this story. Your support means a lot. So even if I don't get back to your reviews/messages right away doesn't mean that I don't treasure them. I will get to them in due time.

_Additional warnings:_ this chapter contains the colour pink and mentions of the Ultimate Evils on Earth (aka, dustbunnies and food that promises to EAT YOU) *shudders* Also, a brief mention of Lady GaGa. Feel free to run if one (or all) of the things mentioned scares the bejesus out of you.

Also, this is terribly unbeta'ed. Mrr.

* * *

_**Just Another Ordinary Day**_

_**Chapter Three**_

_**The Cleaning Incident**_

Surprisingly enough, Eragon found himself alive and well after the laundry incident. Murtagh hadn't bit his head off or threatened to castrate him. That alone had almost been enough to give Eragon a heart-attack.

Something was very wrong with his brother. Murtagh had never _not_ scolded him before. That meant that the worst was yet to come. Eragon seriously wondered whether or not he was supposed to fear for his life.

His punishment came two weeks later. Eragon had finally finished his exams and was more than ready to just crawl into bed and sleep for forty-eight hours. But apparently Murtagh had other plans.

"You can wait forty-eight hours with killing me. Right now I'm going to sleep," Eragon said upon arrival.

Murtagh's smirk didn't wane. His hands were behind his back and he looked oddly pleased. "That's just fine. You can start your punishment tomorrow."

Eragon narrowed his eyes at him. Murtagh was letting him rest? Before a punishment? Oh yes, something was seriously wrong.

But he wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. He just nodded at his brother and walked into his bedroom, making sure to step well over the threshold as he did so. The damn thing had nearly killed him that morning when he had dragged his sleep-deprived self out of bed.

He barely managed to get out of his shoes before falling onto the bed and falling asleep.

-:-

When Eragon woke up, he had almost forgotten all about Murtagh's punishment. But then the anxiety that had haunted him for the past two weeks came back, so did his brother's insane grin from the day before. Murtagh definitely had something planned, and it could not be good.

Well, it was probably damn hilarious for Murtagh, but for poor Eragon it did not bode well.

Eragon got dressed and gingerly opened the door. He peeked outside. Murtagh was nowhere in sight. He let out a sigh of relief and walked out.

"Good morning, baby brother."

And promptly tripped and fell into Murtagh's arms. The blush lit up so quickly Eragon wouldn't be surprised if there was a switch inside of him labelled 'Murtagh alert – cue blush!'.

Eragon peeked up at his brother's face. Murtagh was wearing that insane grin again. He moved out of his brother's embrace and dusted off his clothes. "What do you want?"

"It's time for your punishment."

It was very wrong that his mind gave him alternative situations where those words would be used, and it was even more wrong that most of those were sexual. Sometimes Eragon wondered if his mind hated him.

"What is your punishment, oh great brother of mine?" Eragon drawled.

The grin just widened. It was really starting to freak Eragon out. Murtagh then held out something that Eragon swore they had killed, burned and buried a good few years ago.

"Is that -?"

"The apron mom gave us?" Murtagh interrupted. "Why yes, it is. Well, a copy of it, anyway. She has been asking about it, so I went ahead and bought a replacement. And now you get to wear it."

Eragon stared at the frilly pink thing in horror. Their mother had originally given it to them to use for cooking, hence why there was a script on it that read 'Kiss The Cook', written in loopy, girly writing and with a kiss mark in the bottom right corner. Oh, and he couldn't forget about the hearts. The fucking _hearts_.

"...I'm not touching that thing," Eragon promptly declared.

Murtagh chuckled. "You haven't seen all of it yet." He then held out a pair of rubber gloves. _Pink_ rubber gloves. "I made sure they matched the apron."

His right eye was twitching madly. Murtagh couldn't be serious!

"And now you get the pleasure of cleaning the apartment."

...That was it? That was his big _punishment?_ Cleaning the apartment in a frilly pink apron with matching pink rubber gloves? ...Alright, so maybe that was punishment.

"Have fun," Murtagh grinned and left the apartment.

Eragon stared after him in horror. His gaze shifted to the table, where Murtagh had put the pink items of doom.

Murtagh was gone. He wouldn't know if Eragon didn't wear them. Eragon grinned. Sucker!

The phone rang so loudly that Eragon jumped in the air. He walked over gingerly and picked it up. "Yeah?"

"_You're wearing them,"_ Murtagh said, completely forgoing the social etiquette that was called 'greeting'. _"I will know if you haven't."_

Eragon gaped. "How?" he spluttered.

"_I have my ways,"_ the other said smugly.

Eragon continued to gape.

"_Oh, and that's only the first part of your punishment. I'll tell you the rest when the time comes. Bye, baby bro."_

He was hanging onto the phone long after Murtagh had hung up. That-that smug bastard!

Eragon put the phone down gently. He'd get a real smacking if he broke the phone. He glared at the wall, refusing to believe this humiliating so-called **punishment** that his brother had cooked up for him.

A few minutes later, he concluded that this was so insane and humiliating that it had to be true. He silently swore revenge as he changed into the clothes he always wore when he washed. He walked out of his room and glared daggers at the pink items. Pink of all things!

Knowing that his brother most likely had some insane way of finding out whether or not he had actually worn the dreaded frilly items, Eragon reluctantly put them on. He scowled and went to get the cleaning supplies from the closet.

Murtagh was so going down for this!

-:-

A couple of hours later, Eragon was still trying to remember when the last time he had cleaned the place. There were far too many dust bunnies lurking everywhere, yet he could have sworn he gave the place a thorough once-over no more than a week ago!

Then again, dust bunnies were evil. They multiplied until they were everywhere, threatening to swallow anything and anyone that came close.

Eragon wasn't sure what he feared more; dust bunnies or the fuzzy things that started to grow on food that had been lying around for far too long. They were both far too scary for Eragon's liking. Dust bunnies choked you and ate up your socks, and the fuzzy things threatened to eat _you_ if you came too close.

Eragon really hoped that cleaning the fridge was not on the agenda, because if he remembered correctly, there was a banana in there that should have been thrown out at least a week ago. He did not want to know what that looked like now.

But he could breathe a sigh of relief. He was almost finished. He had already taken out the trash, dusted, tidied up a bit, done the dishes, scrubbed the kitchen so clean it gleamed, scrubbed the bathroom likewise, done both bedrooms and now he only had one thing left to do. The living room.

Eragon pulled at the gloves to make sure they were still in place and glared at the couch. He just knew there were plenty of dust bunnies lurking under there. God knows the ones under Murtagh's bed had nearly eaten him up.

Eragon tried and failed to kill a blush that had threatened to rise. He was very glad that Murtagh had found a new hiding place for his porn. He had stumbled upon them once when he had been cleaning a few weeks after they had moved in. Needless to say, Eragon hadn't doubted Murtagh's attraction towards males ever since.

Eragon refilled the bucket with water in the kitchen. He had plugged his iPod into the stereo upon starting the cleaning adventure, and he was very relieved that he hadn't had to interfere with the music flow just yet. Thank God for shuffle.

He also had to thank Saphira, Aksel and Murtagh a bit, as he tended to raid -borrow- their music collection. Eragon had a pathetically small music collection, and he had no idea why. His CDs kept mysteriously disappearing.

Currently it sounded like some of Aksel's music was shining through. Saphira wasn't big on techno, but Eragon knew Aksel was. And Murtagh would sooner hang himself than admit he listened to anything in the techno genre. But it was good music to work to, Eragon would give Aksel that.

The brunet carried the bucket into the living room. The mop was leaned against the wall and Eragon was pleasantly surprised to see that it hadn't fallen while he had been out of the room. The mop tended to do that.

But before he could mop, Eragon needed to vacuum.

Eragon walked back to his room where the dreaded vacuumer had last been seen and pulled it out. It was a clunky and very unattractive old thing. It worked well enough, but both brothers knew that one day it was going to say goodnight and most likely blow up as it did so. Eragon concluded once again that they really needed to invest in a newer model, and that soon.

Vacuuming the floor was easy enough, until he got to the furniture. Some was easy to get under, but as Eragon had predicted, the couch was going to get tricky. He glared at it and crouched down, pushing the staff as far under the couch as he could.

It didn't get far. Eragon was tempted to growl. He lay down so his upper torso was lying on the floor. His knees were still planted on the ground, slightly parted to steady himself. He let out a cry of triumph when the staff got further under the couch.

Now that things were finally going his way, Eragon relaxed a bit and started to hum along to whatever song was currently playing.

Eragon pushed himself a little bit further under the couch to get to a particularly large assembly of dust bunnies. They mocked him. They clearly didn't think he'd be able to reach them. Well, hah, he'd show them!

"I didn't know you liked Lady GaGa."

Three things happened at once. Eragon yelped and slammed his head against the bottom of the couch at the same time as he slid forward and slammed the back of his neck into the lip of the couch. And then, somehow, in the midst of all this pain Eragon cursed loudly and thought _Murtagh's back already?_

Eragon then landed gracefully on his stomach and felt the air rush out of his lungs. The dust-bunny assembly he had been trying to nail was pushed away from him. Eragon could hear it laughing at him. He groaned.

Murtagh chuckled. "Are you ok, baby bro?"

"Fuck off," Eragon muttered sulkily. That had hurt, damnit!

Eragon sighed and crawled out slowly. He sat up and looked down his front. Somehow his t-shirt had become dusty and gross. He cringed.

"Need help?"

Eragon glared at his older brother over his shoulder. "No thank you," he huffed. He got to his feet and barely caught himself before he dusted himself off. He sighed.

His mood didn't improve when he saw the amused smirk on Murtagh's lips.

Eragon crossed his arms and glared at Murtagh, though he was sure he wasn't very intimidating dressed in pink and with dust all over his upper body. He stuck his tongue out at his brother and turned to stalk into his room.

He had exactly taken four steps before he found himself tripping over the bucket of water he had put out. He tripped over it ever-so-gracefully and found himself landing in a puddle of water.

And then Murtagh started to laugh.

Eragon didn't care that he had ruined Murtagh's t-shirt. He had fucking replaced it, after all. Oh no. Murtagh was going down for this!

And thus Murtagh found himself being tackled by his dusty and wet younger brother.

-:-

Murtagh left the apartment complex with a smug smirk on his lips. He slipped his phone back into his pocket. He knew Eragon would defy him and not wear the apron and rubber gloves, thus why he had waited and called Eragon before even leaving the building.

Confident that his brother was now wearing the dreadful pink items, he could carry on with his business.

Murtagh didn't have a lot of things to take care of, but he would stall his return a bit. If he stayed in the apartment, he might give in and help his brother, and the whole point of leaving was so he wouldn't have to help.

Murtagh therefore spent the next couple of hours making a list of groceries and looking around for Christmas gifts. It was just October, but Murtagh liked to get the shopping done early. He wrote down some possible items, but didn't buy anything.

After a nice lunch and picking up some groceries, Murtagh finally headed home.

Upon entering, he wasn't entirely surprised that he couldn't see his brother. Eragon was probably cleaning one of the other rooms. He went into the kitchen and put away the groceries.

As he did so, he couldn't help but to notice the music coming from their speakers. It sounded horribly pop/techno-ish. Murtagh cringed. That definitely was not his favourite music genre. As he listened a bit more closely, he realised he had heard that particular song before. Not by choice, of course, but radios were terrible things. Sometimes he was forced to listen to something that made him want to curl up and die.

Murtagh closed the fridge and moved into the living room area. It was then he spotted Eragon. Murtagh bit his bottom lip to keep from laughing.

Eragon was crouched down on the floor with his ass in the air. Said ass was wiggling in time with the song. If Murtagh listened hard enough, he could actually hear Eragon humming along to the blasted tune.

Murtagh couldn't help himself. "I didn't know you liked Lady GaGa," he said amusedly. And the only reason he knew the name of that woman was because Arya liked to bash her because she was forced to listen to her whenever she visited her brother.

Several things happened at once. Eragon yelped and uttered a loud "FUCK!"

He had to wince. Judging by the smack that had come before the curse, Eragon had without a doubt smacked his head against the bottom of the couch. Murtagh knew that hurt like a motherfucker. But that wasn't everything. Of course it wasn't.

Eragon then proceeded to somehow slam his shoulders into the couch, and hurt the back of his neck by the looks of things. The brunet then fell to the floor and released a loud "woosh" like sound as the air was knocked out of him. He then let out a soft groan

Murtagh had to feel a little guilty. He hadn't meant for Eragon to get that hurt. Then again, Eragon managed to get hurt doing the simplest of things, so it really wasn't his fault.

He covered the guilt up with a chuckle. "Are you ok, baby bro?"

"Fuck off," Eragon muttered sulkily.

He watched as Eragon slowly crawled out from beneath the furniture. Murtagh's lips twitched when he saw all the dust that had gathered in Eragon's usually light brown hair. Now it looked almost grey. Murtagh didn't doubt that Eragon's shirt was also dusty as hell.

"Need help?" he offered.

Eragon looked over his shoulder and glared at Murtagh. "No thank you," he huffed.

Murtagh couldn't stop the smirk from making its way onto his lips. Eragon looked far too cute for his own damn good. How anyone could look cute when they were as dirty as Eragon was right now was anyone's guess.

Murtagh caught a soft sigh before Eragon turned to face him. Eragon quickly zeroed in on his face.

Obviously this seemed to anger Eragon as he crossed his arms and glared at Murtagh. Murtagh's smirk just widened. Eragon really had no idea how very unintimidating he looked right then. His hair was messed up and was full of grey streaks. His t-shirt was dusty and gross, and while the pink apron and gloves were dusty too, they both stood out like a sore thumb.

Eragon looked really pissed now. Sadly, it was the kind of pissed that made Eragon pout, and a pouting Eragon was just cute. Murtagh watched amusedly as his younger brother stuck his tongue out at him and turned to stalk out of the room.

Murtagh watched as Eragon headed straight for the bucket of water standing in the middle of the room. He didn't have the time to call out before Eragon tripped. The bucket fell over and the brunet fell into a puddle of water.

Murtagh really couldn't help it. Eragon laid spread on the floor with one of his legs popped up on the side-turned bucket. His entire front was most likely soaked. His forelock was drenched and dripping onto his face, leaving streaks through the dust. Then the pout came out.

Something inside of Murtagh broke. He started to laugh.

Ten seconds later, Murtagh let out a surprised grunt as he was tackled by his dusty and wet little brother.

-:-

Eragon wasn't quite sure what he had tried to accomplish. His tackle had started a good old-fashioned brotherly scuffle which, about a minute or so after the tackling, had led to Eragon lying on his back with Murtagh straddling him.

Murtagh smirked down at him. "Eragon, Eragon, Eragon," he tutted. "Did you really think you could pin me?"

Eragon scowled up at his brother. Hey, he was allowed to hope!

Murtagh chuckled and got off of him. It was only then that Eragon realised what a compromising position they had been in. He hoped that his earlier anger flush cancelled out the blush that rose happily. He hated it when he blushed around Murtagh.

He accepted Murtagh's hand and was pulled to his feet. The now slippery floor made him loose his footing and trip right into Murtagh's chest. Murtagh's arm curled around Eragon to steady him.

Eragon's heart was thundering in his chest. He was sure Murtagh was able to hear it, if not feel it.

"You should probably go and take a shower before finishing up here."

Eragon felt his blush deepen. Was it just him or had Murtagh's voice sounded...husky?

This was Murtagh. Eragon had definitely imagined it.

He sighed and pushed himself away from his brother's chest. "I think I will," he said and took off the apron and the gloves. He grimaced and held them at an arm's length away. "But I get first dibs. You can hang around here in your dusty glory," he smirked at Murtagh.

Murtagh crossed his arms and smirked back. "I guess I will have to do that. I do wonder where I'll go and mess things up."

Eragon spluttered. "You wouldn't dare! You dirty anything and you're it cleaning up!"

The other chuckled. "But it's your punishment to clean this place."

"And I will! But if you dirty anything after I've cleaned it, then you clean it up," Eragon said and glared at him. Eragon then remembered that Murtagh had promised a second punishment. "Hey, what's the other half of the punishment?"

Murtagh's smirk widened. "That's a surprise."

Eragon glared at him. He righted the bucket and hung the apron and gloves over the lip. He stalked towards the bathroom.

"Though, if you're worried about me dirtying anything up, we could always shower together," Murtagh suggested teasingly.

The brunet nearly tripped over their mother's rug. He caught himself by grabbing onto the doorway.

Eragon was sure his face was on fire. It certainly felt hot enough. He tried desperately not to look scandalously over his shoulder, as he knew Murtagh would figure out something was up if he did.

So instead of possibly giving away his very inappropriate crush on his bastardly handsome brother, Eragon threw a hasty, "In your dreams!" over his shoulder and rushed for the bathroom.

Now he just had to convince himself not to wank in the shower. Stupid Murtagh and his stupid unintentional innuendos!

* * *

**A/N** I know, I know. This chapter is long overdue. But I hit a major writer's block and my funny juice completely ran out, so I put this on the shelf for a while. I can only hope that I managed to live up to the two previous chapters – humour wise. It is shorter than the other two chapters, but I hope that it's still at least a little amusing.

Sadly, I haven't typed up anything on chapter four, but I hope to do so soon. I just need to find a new batch of funny juice – as my batch was consumed while writing this – and just start typing. This is the story I go to when all my other stories are being hideously uncooperative. If this starts being uncooperative too...mlargh.

As for how long this story is going be – if anyone is wondering – then I will either end it at chapter four or five. I haven't decided yet. I plan to go with the flow.

And that's all for now, I think. I hope you enjoyed the chapter. See you again soon!


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